Thin places

Undo what wills. Do what shall in peace delight.

Love has no direction but its own

bright grace, yet is particular,

"beloved" or solitary

so as to return again and again

to its own Self.

Here. There.

Wrapping itself around you,

petal and leaf.

Becoming wings where there is nothing left

to bind you to this 'only' place--yourself.

Every word whispered, breathed,

by this inner wind

into every other's space,

Here. At last

residing in Itself.

Ourself. This silence,

unforming.